


Good Luck

by singwithin



Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singwithin/pseuds/singwithin
Summary: "In times of trouble, the Motomiyas stand together!" In the summer of 2009, Davis and Veemon are called to live up to the family motto when Great-Aunt Martha needs help.





	Good Luck

It is the middle of July and the summer rains are howling their way through the countryside. Davis is sopping wet, his shoes are wet, his socks are wet, and the diminutive dragon beside him cannot stop sneezing. Davis has blessed him so much he might as well take his vows now and go pro.

“I-I-I’m gonna have the best luck  _ever_ , Davish,” Veemon sputters reassuringly, launching into another resounding “Achoo!”

“Bless you,” Davis says, again. He bangs on the crummy-looking wooden door, again. Nobody answers, again. They have been waiting on the leaky wooden porch of Great-Aunt Martha’s traditional Japanese-style house for nearly an hour.

“Thanksh,” says Veemon.

On the train ride over, Veemon had asked what made his Aunt Martha so great. Davis had told him: Great-Aunt Martha was old, half-deaf, and had a sharp tongue; technically, she was probably Davis’ great-great-aunt. The relatives put up with her partly because she was the oldest member of the Motomiya clan and you were supposed to respect your elders, and mostly because she was insanely rich. Davis had reminded him that the only person he’d ever called scarier than her was Daemon, and that was not exactly a person.

But in times of trouble, the Motomiyas stand together. It’s their family motto. Davis’ father swears up and down by it. So when they got the call that Great-Aunt Martha had had a very bad fall and broken her arm and needed someone to stay with her for a week or two, Davis’ father declared: “In times of trouble, the Motomiyas stand together!” But then June reminded him how absolutely terrifying Great-Aunt Martha was and they all suddenly found reasons to be too busy to go. Davis’ only excuse was having to go to school, and they all knew  _that_  was a joke. 

So here they are, standing together in front of a closed door.

Veemon perks up at the sound of a sliding door opening inside the house and stifles another sneeze. He tugs on Davis’ shirt. “Davish, someone’s coming!”

The old woman who opens the door is twisted over like a thirsty tree that bent to dip its roots and branches into a pool of water and got stuck that way. Her face is lined with crater-deep wrinkles. Her right arm is covered by a cast and in a sling. 

“Hello, Great-Aunt Martha, how nice to finally see y-y-you!” Davis shouts over the rain, ducking his head in a polite bow. His teeth are chattering from the damp.

Great-Aunt Martha peers up at him. “Do I know you? What do you want?”

“Um, I’m Davis, your nephew? The family sent me to help you out for a while?”

Great-Aunt Martha looks unimpressed. “I was napping,” she complains. “You couldn’t have been here earlier? Well, never mind.”

Before Davis can get another word out she’s already heading back into the house, gesturing for them to follow. They make it into the entryway, where Davis quickly kicks off his muddy sneakers, and Veemon shakes off some water. The rain patters against the roof.

“What’s this?” Great-Aunt Martha says suddenly, gesturing at Veemon.

“That’s Veemon, he’s a Digimon!” Davis says with pride.

“Is that some kind of pet? Because pets stay  _outside_ ,” she says so sternly that Veemon almost turns to leave before having second thoughts.

Davis reaches out to catch Veemon’s arm. “He’s not a pet, he’s my buddy!” he says indignantly.

“Please don’t make me stand outside in the rain any more Mrs. Great-Aunt Martha ma’am,” Veemon pleads, throwing all dignity to the wind.

She glares at him fiercely. “Don’t make a mess, and don’t get in the way.”

“He won’t,” Davis promises, and Veemon nods pitifully before sneezing again.

She looks down at their feet. They’re standing in small puddles.

“You’re already making a mess,” she snaps. “Where’s your umbrella on a day like this? If you stand out in the rain all day you’ll get pneumonia, and then I’ll catch it too. I suppose you never thought of that. Young people are so thoughtless these days.”

She marches down the hallway with small, quick steps. “Come!”

She won’t let them into the guest room until they’re dry enough to walk on the tatami mats, but she opens the door and points out where to find extra futons and blankets. She hustles them into the bathroom, directing them to towels, soap, robes, pointing out where to hang clothes to dry.

“Mop up the hallway when you’re done!” she commands. “Too much water on the floor will cause it to warp! I’m going to finish my nap.”

She stomps off to a room further down the hall. Once she’s gone, Davis lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and starts to peel off his wet clothes.

Veemon burrows into one of the rough towels, looking not unlike a Gabumon. “She’s not so bad,” he offers.

-

The rains have finally stopped, leaving the air swelteringly humid. The house is quiet. Great-Aunt Martha must still be asleep. Outside, the insects are humming, and the birds have cautiously begun to chirp.

They’d both fallen asleep on some cushions in their room after cleaning up the hall. Veemon is still curled up under a blanket, like a lump. Davis checks his phone and groans when he realizes there’s no signal. He’d left his D-Terminal at home, thinking he wouldn’t need it. So much for keeping in touch.

The blanket lump kicks him.

“ _Davish_ ,” Veemon hisses. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Davis realizes. “Too bad we ate all our snacks on the train.”

The two of them go explore the house. Most of it is closed up and dark; dusty rooms filled with items in storage under sheets, old photographs of people Davis has never met on display. They find a parlor decorated completely with Japanese art. They find a lot of closets.

Finally, they reach the kitchen and investigate the pantry. It’s sparsely stocked, but Great-Aunt Martha has a few things to throw together. They’ll need to go shopping soon, though, or else they’ll starve. Again, Davis thinks regretfully of their long-gone snacks.

“Okay, ramen it is. Find me a pot, dude,” he instructs Veemon, who dutifully begins searching in the cabinets until they find one big enough. The water from the sink trickles slowly, and the stove is ancient, but they get it to light. Soon enough, they’ve got a good broth going.

Davis boils noodles. “We’ll have to cut these. I don’t think she can use chopsticks with that cast on.”

“I smelled food,” a creaky voice says out of the darkness, and they both jump in fright until they realize who it is.

“Hey, Great-Aunt Martha,” Davis says weakly, heart still pounding. “We got hungry, so we decided to make dinner. Hope you don’t mind.”

She comes over to the stove and examines the soup, sniffing appreciatively.

“Seems edible,” she says.

Great-Aunt Martha eats two whole bowls of noodles. It’s amazing. The only other person Davis knows who can eat like that is himself. Veemon usually quits after one and a half.  

“You have a talent for cooking, boy,” she says, slurping the broth. It’s a rare compliment.

“Hey, thanks!” Davis beams.

Cooking’s his thing, other than soccer, of course. He’s gotten pretty serious about it. Veemon has taken to reading cookbooks while Davis is at school to learn more about making noodles, and Davis helps him decipher the bigger words. Together, they’ve created a list of recipes to test until they finally achieve their goal of making the world’s best noodle soup.

“I always thought you were supposed to be the dumb one,” says Great-Aunt Martha, looking at him with sharp eyes.

Davis bristles at that, but Veemon interrupts. “Davish isn’t dumb!” he says loyally. “He talks pretty much all the time. Last month he used up all his cell phone minutes in just one week!”

Davis thumps him on the head with his fist, but lightly. “Thanks dude, but she meant I’m not good at school,” he says.

“Oh.” Veemon shrugs and continues eating.

Surprisingly, Great-Aunt Martha has cracked a smile. It’s small, like a sliver of fog on a faraway mountaintop, but it’s there.

“So you’re not dumb after all. You’re almost done with high school, aren’t you? What will you do then?” she asks.

Davis hesitates. “Honestly?”

“No, but at least do me the favor of making it a good lie,” Great-Aunt Martha says acerbically.

“I’ve dreamed of having my own ramen cart since I was a kid,” Davis tells her. “I mean, I think people really bond over food. Me and Veemon here, we’ve had some of our best times just chowing down, you know? I could bring that experience to other people, kinda spread happiness around.”

Her reaction takes him by surprise. She doesn’t make fun of him, or tell him he’s being stupid, or laugh it off. She takes him seriously.

“Why noodles? Why not something else?”

“ _Everyone_  loves noodles. If you make them right, you can totally make someone’s day.” Sheepishly, he adds, “Just between you and me, I’m not too great at cooking anything else.”

“I see. So you’re going to own a ramen cart.”

“We’re gonna own a bunch of ’em! The only thing better than eating noodlesh is eating with friendsh  _all over the world_ ,” Veemon chimes in excitedly, looking up from his bowl. Davis knows he’s thinking of being Imperialdramon, going from place to place in a flash. He hasn’t had the heart to tell him that probably won’t work, no matter how awesome it sounds.

Great-Aunt Martha leans back in her chair. “Owning multiple food carts is a costly venture, especially if you want to expand overseas,” she points out. “Apart from the necessary training in food preparation, you’d need a significant amount of startup capital. Then factor in insurance, taxes, cost of supplies, employee salaries, marketing…”

Davis falters, grin fading. “Yeah, I know. I’m just talking big. Probably I’ll go work in a restaurant after graduation, or something. If you want to know someone _really_  cool, you should meet my friends.”

He tells her about Cody’s incredible record-breaking win at the city kendo tournament, and T.K.’s prizewinning essay that was published in the newspaper. How Kari and Yolei built a photobooth from scratch for the school festival last year. How Ken has been the top-scoring student in his district for the past three years and still finds time to come to Davis’ soccer games, because he’s his other best friend.

“Bring me my medicine,” Great-Aunt Martha interrupts, pointing to the bottle of pills by the sink, and Davis realizes he’s been talking way too much. She swallows two painkillers. Soon, she’s dozed off in her chair.

He signals Veemon to start collecting the dishes while he goes to get the gift his mother had sent (a box of pastries from her favorite bakery, strictly off-limits to them to eat). They wash up. Davis makes tea, and puts it in front of her along with the gift, loudly clearing his throat ’til she notices. 

She looks at the gift and the tea with a blank expression, finally pushing both away, untouched. Veemon watches the unopened pastries with sad eyes.

“You should get some rest,” Great-Aunt Martha says, abruptly standing up. “I’ve got a lot for you to tackle tomorrow.”

-

True to her word, Great-Aunt Martha keeps them busy. They air out closets, wash futons, go grocery shopping, weed small patches of the garden, repair fences, wash windows, patch the roof, and cook more noodles. He sort of wishes his friends were there, too. Veemon’s great, but it’s be nice to have a few more human hands around to help. Maybe someone a little taller.

Her house is old and kind of terrible now, but years ago, it must have been beautiful. Davis tries to imagine what once was there before became so run down. The pathways in the gardens are still marked with stones, but her plants have grown wild like a small jungle. There’s a murky fishpond without any fish, where Veemon swears he caught a frog.

Great-Aunt Martha’s telephone is so ancient it won’t make long distance calls and there’s no computer, either, so there’s more downtime than Davis had anticipated. Begrudgingly, he does enough homework to keep up with his class. He and Veemon explore more of the house whenever she; in a cabinet, they find lots of old cookbooks, some with promising ramen recipes. He uses his phone to take pictures.

But it turns out Veemon was right about one thing. She really isn’t so bad.

She doesn’t talk much about herself, but every so often she’ll let something slip, like that the house used to belong to her older brother. He’d laid out the gardens and she refused to allow any changes to be made after he’d passed. Any weeding has to be closely supervised, and she usually gets tired before too long, so the garden stays a mess. 

Davis learns that while Great-Aunt Martha never married, she raised her brother’s children as her own. They’re all old now, but the ones who are still alive write to her every month. She corresponds with lots of people. Davis drafts letters for her since she can’t write with her left hand. He’s amazed at the way she knows what’s going on with the whole family, but in private, he confides to Veemon his suspicion that Great-Aunt Martha isn’t as deaf as everyone thinks.

Great-Aunt Martha is curious about Digimon, and is impressed when she sees Veemon take down a whole fence with a single V-Headbutt. She’d heard of them, because it wasn’t like they were a secret anymore (not that the Motomiyas were good at keeping secrets) but she doesn’t understand much of what she’s been told.

“Now, tell me again. You and Davis met when you came out of a computer?” she asks Veemon for the hundredth time. 

Veemon doesn’t understand. “No. Davish came  _in_.”

But Veemon notices things Davis’ doesn’t. He points out how Great-Aunt Martha is a little unsteady on her feet. Maybe it’s the broken arm that’s throwing off her balance, or maybe it’s just the way she hunches over, but it makes Davis nervous to see the way she sometimes wobbles while walking. He tries walking beside her but she chases him away. 

She finally opens their gift and shares the pastries with them. They’re a few days stale, but not bad if you dunk them in tea.

They drink a lot of tea.

-

Davis and Veemon are in the middle of cleaning out the garden shed when Great-Aunt Martha appears and tells them to take a break.

“Follow me,” she commands. Davis and Veemon exchange puzzled looks, but they follow her back into the house and into her bedroom. The wizened old woman leads them to a dusty wooden chest, opening it with difficulty, and orders Davis to hold the lid open while she continues rummaging through carefully-wrapped items until she finds a lacquered box.

“Take a look at this.”

“That’s  _cool_ ,” Davis says, heartily meaning it.

It’s a rectangular box, black lacquer with brightly-colored paintings on the lid. Two dragons are circling each other through the clouds; one red, one blue. Davis instantly thinks of Azulongmon, but the blue dragon’s expression isn’t serious enough. It’s got a dopey grin, and a funny-looking x shape on its nose.

“It’s me!” Veemon breathes in awe. “Isn’t it, Davish?”

“This box is probably older than dirt, so I doubt it’s you,” Great-Aunt Martha says dryly. “My father brought it back from Manchuria when I was a girl. It’s a real Chinese antique. Back during the war, our house was bombed. The whole thing was wrecked except the room this box was kept in. After that, we used to sleep next to it every night, thanking our good luck dragons for keeping us safe. We were never bombed again.”

Davis amends his earlier statement: “ _Very_ cool.”

Veemon looks smug, as if it was actually his doing.

Great-Aunt Martha reaches out and flicks Veemon’s forehead, right on his v-mark. “Maybe you’ll be good luck, too, eh?”

-

The rainy season reaches its end, and the cicadas pick up where they’d left off when the rains came. Veemon finds a bunch hanging on a dead tree in the garden and calls Davis over to see, marveling at how many there are in one place.

They’re in the garden, looking at them, when there is a shout, and suddenly Great-Aunt Martha is on the ground.

Davis and Veemon run over to her, flanking her to try to pull her up. Her arm is out of the sling, hanging at a funny angle. She’s still making terrible faces,and looks a lot like one of the antique oni masks in her parlor.

“What’s wrong?” Davis asks urgently.

“Leave me alone!” she barks, grimacing in pain. She tries to swat them away with her good arm, but can’t stand up on her own.

Davis and Veemon don’t even have to look at each other before they respond in unison. “No way!” They help her inside and manage to get her into her own room.

The doctor comes. He’s a country doctor, quiet and slow talking; Davis brings him some tea and hovers anxiously as he prescribes a few days of bed rest.

“Looks like you’ve had another narrow escape, Miss Martha. You’ve sprained your shoulder in that fall, but the break seems to be fine, you just jostled it around. I hate to think what would have happened if you’d been alone.”

She ignores him, pretending to fall asleep while he talks. Davis walks the doctor out. When he comes back, he finds Veemon sitting by her bed, talking with her.

Davis hangs outside to listen, peering at them through the cracked door.

“Doesh it hurt?” Veemon asks hesitantly.

Great-Aunt Martha scoffs. “Of course it does! That’s what being old  _is_ , it’s everything hurting, and having foolish accidents, and everyone fussing over you all the time.”

Veemon takes this seriously. “I didn’t know that. I haven’t been old yet.”

She laughs at that, but laughing jolts her arm and she lets out a hiss of pain. “You’re wasting your time, sitting here like a log. Shouldn’t you be with the boy?”

“‘In times of trouble, the Motomiyas stand together’,” Veemon recites. He gently pats her good hand. “You look like you’ve got troublesh. I’m not going anywhere.”

Davis is overcome with pride and starts to tear up, because his partner is the actual, literal best. Later on, he pulls Veemon into a side hug and gives him a noogie without explaining why. “Leggo!” Veemon complains, muffled by his arm, but he totally deserves it.

-

The days after the accident are uneventful. The cicadas are deafening. Great-Aunt Martha asks him more about his friends, what they want to do with their lives.

“About your ramen cart idea,” she says suddenly, one day. “What do your friends think about it?”

Davis shrugs. “I don’t know. I think they think it’s a crazy idea. But I’ve come up with all kinds of harebrained ideas, so I guess they’re used to me by now.”

He doesn’t tell her that he hasn’t brought his dream up in years, so they probably think he outgrew it. They know he cooks, but they think it’s for fun, not because he’s serious about it. He’ll never admit it, but he’s afraid they really will think it’s a crazy idea.

“I think everyone believes in  _you_ , Davish,” Veemon interjects. “They’ll support you no matter what! Doesn’t matter if it’s a ramen cart or egg rollsh or hamburgersh…” 

Davis laughs at him. “You hungry for lunch, buddy?”

Veemon grins sheepishly.

Then, to his surprise, Great-Aunt Martha says, “I agree with Veemon.”

“Well-” Davis starts, but she interrupts him with a well timed cough and a look that dares him not to argue with her.

“I also think it is time for lunch,” she declares.

Another week goes by. One morning, Davis goes to call Great-Aunt Martha for breakfast. He finds her sitting out on her porch, looking out at her garden.

She seems sad. He decides to give her a moment, and tries to close the sliding door as quietly as he can, but she hears it.

“Davis,” she calls.

He jumps, then goes outside to join her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Isn’t it about time for you two to go home?” Her eyes narrow. “You’ve done about all you can here.”

“But-” Davis starts to protest, thinking of everything that still need doing.

“I’ll tell the family you were a great help,” she interrupts. “You’ve done the Motomiyas proud, Davis. But I need time to myself again. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

Great-Aunt Martha is famously stubborn once she’s made up her mind. Everyone knows that.

So they leave.

Davis goes back to school, homework in hand, which astonishes everybody. Veemon picks up his cookbook and continues his research. They try out the next recipe on their list, but it’s no good, so they scrap it. He meets up with Ken, they kick around a soccer ball, go play some video games. Life goes back to normal.

In the autumn, Great-Aunt Martha gets sick. Really sick. Soon, they get the call, and the Motomiyas stand together at her funeral.

-

Not long afterwards, a package arrives for Davis with no sender address. He and Veemon eagerly tear off the paper wrapping to see what’s inside.

It’s the lacquered box. 

“My box!” Veemon shouts happily, tracing his claw over the blue dragon. Davis good-naturedly elbows him out of the way so he can open it. They find a sealed envelope, with two handwritten pages inside.

The first reads:  _You’re only getting this because I’m dead, as I’m sure you know by now, but I can’t think of anyone better to have it. You already know it’s old and how much it meant to me, so I’m trusting you to keep it safe. I hope this box will bring you luck, because you’re going to need it._

The second:  _My lawyer will be in touch. -M_

The note is followed by a list of books, names, and phone numbers.

“Davish,” says Veemon, suddenly serious. “What does a lawyer do?”

The lawyer, as it turns out, has the pleasure to inform them that Davis has inherited abut 70% of Great-Aunt Martha’s estate. This means (because Davis asks, just hypothetically) that if they wanted to, they could fill their room with enough cash to roll around in and still have tons of money in the bank. The lawyer, as a matter of protocol, strongly advises against that specific course of action.

The names and phone numbers turn out to be for financial planners, business consultants, a marketing company, and three retired chefs of top-star ramen restaurants. The books are cookbooks and business guides, listed in order of relevance.

The lawyer cautions them against haste. They still have a great deal to learn, and starting a business can be challenging. Also, he isn’t sure how to legally proceed in making a Digimon an equal partner in their new venture.

Davis grins, and bumps fists with Veemon. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he tells the lawyer. “I think it’ll work out fine. This guy’s pretty lucky.”

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to post this for Odaiba Day....and missed it. Oh well! Great-Aunt Martha was first mentioned as a throwaway joke in 02's "The Dark Gate" so I stuck to the dub - it didn't seem right to wedge her into the original version, as much as I love Daisuke and V-mon. This was originally written as part of a longer series of oneshots, but I thought I'd let it stand alone here.


End file.
